


Too Much Lemonade

by obsessiveninja



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Drunkenness, EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE ANNOYING AND GROSS, F/M, I want to write the follow-up hangover fic I am so tempted, It's definitely a confession tho, THERE WILL BE NO SWEEPING CONFESSIONS IN THIS, VERY VERY REALISTIC DRUNK FIC, pokeshipping - Freeform, ~~look between the lines~~
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 01:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6033067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessiveninja/pseuds/obsessiveninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're not drunk if you can lie on the floor without holding on." - Dean Martin. Ash gets unintentionally wasted, and it's not pretty for anyone involved. Slight Pokeshipping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much Lemonade

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this one after reading a few drunk fics that were really dissatisfying because the authors had obviously never been within a mile radius of alcohol before. Being drunk is not fun, taking care of drunk people is even worse, and reading realistic accounts of all this is so much more interesting than how I've seen a lot of people writing fanfiction interpret what being drunk is like.   
> The drinking age in Japan is 20 so ... they're all over 20?

Ash wasn’t really a vodka person. Ash wasn’t really an alcohol person in general. Sure, he could be pretty stupid, and thick as a brick, but even he had enough sense to know that he barely had enough control of his functions while _sober_ – he was hardly going to make things harder for himself by being inebriated. But he was at Gary Oak’s birthday party, the guy hadn’t bothered to provide any food, and apparently Ash wasn’t to challenge anyone to a Pokemon battle at the event (he asked). Ash was bored, and he kept drinking solely because it gave him something to do. And maybe it was the fact that carbonated drinks get you drunk faster, or maybe it was that he’d somehow escaped any kind of substantial meal the whole day – in any case, he was up to his seventh vodka lemonade in the past two hours, and he felt like he needed to sit down.

He didn’t get it – Brock had told him this was one of the milder drinks. Assured him that he probably wouldn’t even get tipsy on it. But he was fairly certain that he was a little bit drunk now. His cheeks were hot and felt like they were floating. His feet didn’t seem to know what they were doing. His hands … were on fire, and could really do with another glass of something ice cold in them to cool them down …

“Ash?”

He swivelled around, almost losing his balance. Misty was in front of him, two hours late to the party, and wearing a very, _very_ short dress. So he expressed as such.

“Gee, Misty,” he remarked, “You are wearing a _very_ short dress.”

“Wha –?”

“Hey, Ash!” Brock pushed through the crowd right behind her, “Misty finally made – oh my gosh, how much did you drink?”

“You’re _drinking_?!” Misty’s eyes widened.

“Only a little bit, I swear!” Ash scoffed, “I’ve only had a few drinks. I’m not drunk. I’m _not_. I’m just hungry. Gary hasn’t given us any _food_.”

“There was plenty of food on the other side of the room,” Brock mused.

“What?!”

“You didn’t look?”

“Ash, did you really think you were going to get food from the bar?” Misty’s eyebrows were raised, but when he really focused on her face, he could tell she was smiling. “It’s open tab all night. Everyone hanging around here is only here to get wasted.”

“He’s not used to this.” Brock threw an arm around his shoulder, “We should probably find you a seat.”

And that was when the bartender put Ash’s eighth vodka lemonade of the night down in front of them.

Ash looked at the drink. Then he looked at Brock. Then over at Misty on the other side.

“Oh no you don’t!” Misty swatted his hand away as he reached for the drink in front of him. Brock took him firmly by the shoulder led him over to a group of couches, most of them empty – it was still early hours, after all, and not everyone had had quite as much to drink as Ash.

“I’ll go grab some finger food,” Brock said, brushing away the Ash-shaped indent on his shoulder after putting the boy down. “Can you look after him?”

“I can look after me,” Ash agreed, when it belatedly hit him that Brock was actually talking to Misty, who had the same amused expression on her face that she’d been wearing uninterrupted since she found him. But what was so _funny?_

He didn’t even know she was invited, or why she was so late if she was. When he asked her about it, she explained something about an emergency at the gym.

“It’s _always_ an emergency at the gym,” Ash complained, “If you love your gym so much, why don’t you marry it?”

It was a lame attempt at getting a rise out of her, like he always managed to do as a kid when he was bored enough. But it was, of course, doomed from the start.

“Maybe I will,” she said, poking him on the arm, and off Ash went tipping over on his side. Misty jumped to grab him before his face hit the seat, roughly jerking him back up. “Are you okay?!”

“I feel great,” Ash replied, giving her a dopey smile.

“Sure looks like it,” a male voice put in.

Both Misty and Ash jumped, and at the sight of Gary Oak with a glass of scotch in hand, she abruptly released the grip she had around Ash.

“No open bar next party, huh?” Gary chuckled.

“It’s alright, Gary,” Ash beamed, “I can barely taste the vodka anymore.”

“Vodka?” Gary ran a hand through his hair. From his peripheral vision, Ash could make out Misty shaking her head. “Why didn’t Brock start you off on something softer, like cider?”

“For Brock, vodka _is_ soft,” Misty tutted, “You _did_ see him at your grandfather’s seventieth, didn’t you? He wouldn’t even budge.”

“That man’s got a rock for a stomach.”

The two of them started laughing, and Ash tried to pay attention – he really did. But as he looked around the room, he just realised there was far too much going on. The music was loud, and there was a sea of bodies in the middle of the room doing everything wrong imaginable. A couple he didn’t recognise flopped on the couch next to him, one of them putting their half-finished drink on the ground.

“Are you gonna drink that?” Ash asked them. He took their lack of answer as a yes, and he swiped at the glass. Misty and Gary were caught up in their own conversation. Ash downed the thing in one go.

“Ash!” Misty yelped, but the glass was over by the time she could snatch it away from him. Gary hid his face in his hands.

“I’ll go get some water,” he sighed, moving away until he disappeared back into the crowd.

“Why would you do that?” Misty chastised, “Aren’t you drunk enough already?”

“I was thirsty,” Ash complained.

“So you drink someone else’s drink? Who knows what was in that?” Misty sniffed at the glass and scrunched up her nose. “Gosh, that’s strong!”

“That face you made was kind of cute.”

“Ash …” If Ash had kept paying attention to her he might have noticed a slight blush tinge her cheeks. But he’d moved on to stare at the couple next to him, who had turned into a tangle of hair and limbs. He couldn’t tell where one person ended and the other started.

“Don’t they ever stop to breathe?” he asked.

“Apparently not.”

“I’m back with food!” Brock’s chipper voice cut in, “Anything bad happen?”

“I’m pretty sure Ash had a glass of scotch while I wasn’t paying attention.” Misty scooted over and attempted to pull Ash along so Brock had room to sit; Ash ended up tipping right over onto her lap. She groaned, “I’m calling him a cab.”

“You’re not seriously thinking of letting Ash go back to Delia’s, are you?” Brock helped her pull Ash back upright. Ash was about to complain about how he really wasn’t _that_ drunk, and he was sure his mom wouldn’t mind, when Brock placed a small plate of sushi on his lap. And of course, Ash fell for it.

“That’s where I’m staying,” Misty replied. “I don’t know where else to go. I think Mrs Ketchum would be more worried if we booked him a hotel room for the night. Can you imagine the conclusions she’d jump to? And didn’t you tell me she lectured you about STDs yesterday?”

“STDs are a very serious matter, Brock,” Ash added solemnly. “Do you really want a rash all around your –”

He felt a soft hand cover his mouth and muffle everything else he had to say, and he looked over and saw Misty fighting hard not to laugh. But what was so _funny?_

“We might not have any other choice,” Brock continued, and he sounded like he was laughing too. From the corner of his eye, Ash could see Brock pull out his PokeNav. “I’m afraid of what will happen if Delia sees Ash this drunk. To _all_ of us.”

“She won’t have to.” Gary had joined up with them, glass and jug of water in hand. Ash put his half-eaten sushi down and readily grabbed at the glass with both hands. “He can stay at the lab. Grandpa’s got a shed with a nice bed in it, so no one has to see him except the Pokemon. Ash has stayed over plenty of times before, so Mrs Ketchum won’t be suspicious.”

“Cab’ll be here in fifteen minutes,” Brock confirmed. “You’re a lifesaver, Gary.”

Gary smirked the kind of smirk that made Ash’s blood boil once upon a time. “As always. I’ll go grab the keys off of Tracey.”

Ash tugged at Brock’s sleeve, and without even sparing a glance at the boy, Brock switched Ash’s empty plate for a new one filled with more finger food to eat.

“I’ll look after him till he gets to the lab and settles in,” Brock offered. “Just so –“

“No,” Misty interrupted him. Ash turned to look at her, and caught her pouring him another glass of water. Gary must’ve given her the jug when he wasn’t looking. “I’ll go.”

“But Misty, you just got here!”

“And I don’t really want to leave,” Ash added.

Misty glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Oh, you’re leaving.”

“You’re _definitely_ leaving.” Gary had returned now with the keys in his hands.

“Are you kicking me out of your party?!” Ash spluttered. He felt the muscles of his face stretch out with the O-shape his mouth made as he tried to look offended. He was overdoing it, of course, but he didn’t really have any control over that.

“Ash,” Gary said, leaning down to place a hand on his shoulder. Ash could hardly feel it touching him. He wondered if that was a bad thing. “You know I love you like a brother, and that’s exactly why I’m kicking you out of my party.”

Ash pouted, and the three of them burst out laughing. And he still didn’t get what was so funny.

 

It was just over a twenty minute drive back to Oak’s lab, and Misty was starting to regret convincing Brock to let her go. The argument she had given him was that she’d dumped her bags off at the Ketchum household the minute she got to Pallet Town and set off straight for Gary’s party, and she needed the rest herself – but both of them knew Misty really just wanted to be the one made sure Ash was okay. It wasn't that she didn’t trust Brock; she just wanted to do things for herself. She was much more comfortable that way.

Or at least she was, until Ash stumbled out of the cab looking positively green. The guy could barely walk in a straight line, and navigating was proving more difficult that she intended – the last time she had to drag him around like this was years ago, when he was more than a foot shorter and with much less muscle mass. The only way she could really do it is if she got closer to Ash than she actually wanted to, and with Ash looking as sick as he did … she wasn’t taking any chances.

“I’m taking you straight to the bathroom,” Misty fussed. “You weren’t sick earlier, so what’s with you now?”

“I get car sick,” Ash mumbled.

“And you tell me _now?!_ ”

They had to sneak across the yard where a few Pokemon were sleeping, and Misty could tell Ash was _trying_ to be quiet. He had some food and water in his system now, and lightweight as Ash was, it seemed to be having an effect already. Unfortunately it wasn’t nearly enough for Ash not to be stumbling around, and many of the larger Pokemon were stirring.

“Go back to sleep, Charizard,” Misty whispered as the fire-type stirred when they walked past her. The Pokemon looked his master over from head to toe, and went back to his slumber unconcerned.

Misty envied him.

She was petting an Arcanine to sleep when she heard a thud – Ash had tripped over and fall flat on his face.

“Ash –!”

“Psy?”

Misty closed her eyes and felt her eyebrows twitch. Ash Ketchum had managed to trip over the one thing responsible for any anger management issues she’d had in recent years.

“Psyiy?” Psyduck tilted his head up at Misty from underneath the boy’s legs. She growled, reaching for a Pokeball she now realised she didn’t have. _Great_.

She picked Psyduck up and pulled him out of the way and looked up to find Pikachu helping Ash struggle onto his feet. The rodent Pokemon looked her way and sent her a wave.

“Pika!” He rant up to her and Misty took the time to scratch him behind the ear.

“And hello to you too, Pikachu,” she laughed, “It’s been a while.”

She heard a groan come from Ash, who was now sitting up, clutching a hand to his stomach. Her eyes widened.

“Ash! Not out he–”

He turned to the side and hurled.

A group of Pokemon sleeping nearby woke with a start. They glanced about confused, until they took one sniff at the ground near Ash and shuffled in the opposite direction. Misty and Pikachu shared a look, and sighed.

“I feel horrible,” Ash moaned, leaning back on his elbows.

“You’re not alone.” Misty rose to her feet, extending a hand out to Ash. He took it with a surprisingly firm grip, and pulling him to his feet took longer than she remembered it did. With the way Ash was now, she noted – all athletic and … well-built – rescuing his ass was probably something she’d never be able to do again.

A Feraligatr made it’s way over to them, and Misty could only assume it was Ash’s old Totodile – Ash had mentioned that it had evolved to a Croconaw, but she never knew it had gone one step further. It used its Water Gun at the offending area, soon dissolving the mess into a larger puddle that seeped into the ground. There was no sign that anything ever happened there … almost. Misty noted that the smell wouldn’t leave.

She nodded her thanks at Feraligatr and tugged at Ash’s arm. “Come on, Ketchum. We’re almost indoors.”

He only grunted in response. Misty took this to mean the height of his intoxication was over, and he was finally ready to pass out. She grabbed both of his arms and dragged him towards the shed, Pikachu following just after him. She leaned him against the wall beside the door while she fished around her purse for the keys.

“I really love you, Mist,” Ash murmured.

She froze, key in hand and only halfway out of her purse. She didn’t bother turning her head to look at him – she wasn’t sure what thoughts her face would betray if she did.

“I love Gary and Brock, too. They’re such great pals.”

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and rolled her eyes. Typical Ash Ketchum. He never knew what he was saying when sober, so why would things be any better now?

“You guys are my best friends,” he smiled, as Misty pulled him indoors.

“Yeah, yeah,” she grunted, “None of this changes the fact that you still owe me a bike.”

Ash only snorted in response.

The shed wasn’t spacious, and only had room for a small bed and a desk, which was covered in notes and files, presumably some of Professor Oak’s old research. Misty pushed Ash onto the bed and took a glance at one of the papers from the corner of her eye, spotting a diagram of an Aerodactyl – so these were Gary’s notes.

“How’re you feeling?” she asked, turning back to Ash who was already sprawled across the bed.

“Thirsty.”

“You’re drinking water.” It wasn’t a question, and Misty didn’t leave him any room to argue. The shed had a small bathroom attached to it, and she checked to see if there was a glass or a bottle lying around somewhere. By the time she got back, however, Ash had already passed out cold.

“Oof,” Misty grunted, kicking off her shoes, “ _Finally._ ” She pulled out a chair sitting next to the desk and flumped down onto it. Pikachu sniffed around Ash’s face, before turning his nose up at his trainer and jumping away onto Misty’s lap.

“Me too, Pikachu,” she sighed, curling up so both she and the rodent Pokemon could be comfortable in their seat. “Me too.”


End file.
